


VI. Defining Trust

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-23
Updated: 2006-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam and Dean continue to work through their relationship. Sixth in the Defining Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

_**VI. Defining Series DEFINING TRUST (Supernatural D/S)**_  
 **Title:** Defining Trust - VI. Defining Series  
 **Author:** Shorts  
 **Pairings/Character:** Dean/Sam  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Category:** Slash  
 **Word Count:** 3706  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Note** The links to the other parts of the series can be reached via my info page.  
  
  
  
DEFINING TRUST  
By Shorts  
  
  
The creak of movement from upstairs was accompanied by a light showering of dust and dirt. Dean and Sam shared a look, then turned their attention upwards.  
  
Dean pointed at himself, then at the ceiling.  
  
Sam shook his head and mouthed the word no.  
  
Dean nodded yes.  
  
Sam motioned to himself, pointed at Dean, then at the ceiling.  
  
Dean tapped his finger on Sam's chest and pointed back the way they had come to the front of the dilapidated farm house. His face set in a stern frown.  
  
Sam's lips pressed tightly together until the skin around them turned white.  
  
Refusing to continue the argument, Dean slipped out his gun and headed for the stairs.  
  
Pissed off, Sam headed back the way they had come, resisting the urge to curse out loud. Granted, there was a chance the thing could evade Dean, but that didn't change the fact Dean always took the bigger risks. Even though they weren't kids anymore, Dean still donned the older brother stance during most hunts.  
  
Keeping his back pressed against the cracked and stained wall of the stairwell, Dean slowly made his way up. Carefully, he tested each step before he committed his weight to it. Movement to the left of the landing caught his eye and he crouched, moving quickly up the last few wooden steps.  
  
Sam slipped out the front. Angry that he had been sent out of harms way. He stepped off the half-rotted porch and moved away from the house to get a clear look at the upstairs. Taking his own gun out, he cocked it and waited.  
  
The night was suddenly filled with the sound of gunshots and flashes of light lit the dirty glass of the second floor window. Taking two steps toward the door, Sam refrained from bolting back into the house. He clenched his teeth and lifted his gun, splitting the difference between the window and the door.  
  
Shattered glass exploded, followed by Dean, still shooting back into the window as he fell.  
  
Cringing slightly as Dean hit the small overhang of the porch before rolling off and falling to the ground, Sam continued to cover the broken window. A shadow lurched into view. He had just enough time to register the thing was wounded, but not yet put down, before it leapt toward him.  
  
*  
  
Dean slouched in the passenger seat as Sam drove them back to the motel. Technically, he wasn't really hurt, just a little banged up from the fall, but it was easier to keep peace with Sam and let him drive.  
  
Sam clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. "You shouldn't have gone up there alone."  
  
"Dude, it was tight quarters up there," said Dean. "We'd have just as likely shot each other than the demented monster."  
  
"I still don't see why it had to be you and not me," snapped Sam, glaring at Dean.  
  
"I don't see what you're so pissed off about." Dean's own temper rose at Sam's prissy attitude.  
  
"Dean, you were thrown out the window," pointed out Sam, forcing himself to slow his speed as they entered the town limits.  
  
"Correction," said Dean, "I jumped out the window."  
  
"Even better," said Sam, his voice filled with sarcasm.  
  
"You killed it, didn't you?" Dean was at a complete loss as to why Sam was upset.  
  
"As it was hurtling at me," snapped Sam.  
  
"Exactly." Dean smirked. "It drew its power from the farmhouse. We couldn't destroy it while it was still inside."  
  
Sam slowly turned his head toward him, outrage filling him. "You used yourself as bait to lure it after you? Are you insane? While you were recovering from that fall, it could have killed you."  
  
"Not a chance," said Dean, relaxing back into the seat. "I knew you'd be there."  
  
Speechless, Sam drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence.  
  
*  
  
Dean took his shower first, inspecting the light cuts he had received crashing through the window. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought Sam was a chick with all his mood swings. He'd been hounding him to talk about stuff that would only lead to them arguing. Eventually, such conversations would work their way around to the whole unresolved issue of whether Sam would be staying or not after they tracked down the demon that killed Mom and Jess. The next thing he knew, Sam would be pissed off, telling him he was a repressed asshole.  
  
He had hoped that maybe keeping the worst parts of the hunts from Sam, he'd be less inclined to bolt when all was said and done, but it hasn't exactly worked out that way. Lately, he felt he couldn't win for losing with Sam. He didn't think he'd ever figure Sam out.  
  
Maybe they just needed a day or two off the road and give them both a chance to recharge. He finished washing up and exited the bathroom to give Sam a turn at the shower.  
  
He rummaged through their clothes to try and find something half way clean to wear tomorrow. The prospects weren't very good and he determined it was time to find a laundromat. "Hey, Sam!"  
  
"What?!" yelled Sam, sticking his head around the bathroom door.  
  
"We're out of clean clothes." Dean held up different shirts and sniffed.  
  
"We haven't stopped long enough to take care of it," said Sam. "It's been almost two months since I did the laundry and that was in between the whole Mordecai business and the water demon. It's your turn."  
  
Dean made a face as one particular shirt radiated an aroma he didn't even want to identify. "This sucks. What the hell am I supposed to wear while I'm slaving away at the laundromat?"  
  
"Check the duffel bag by the window," suggested Sam. He watched as Dean found the bag and opened it.  
  
"That's where my shirt went to!" exclaimed Dean, pulling out a clean set of clothes. He noticed Sam had a set in there as well.  
  
"Figured you'd wait until the last moment," mumbled Sam under his breath.  
  
"Looks like we're going to be hanging around for another day or so," said Dean, glad to have a legitimate reason to bring up the suggestion of holing up for a day or so. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt for us to take a little down time."  
  
Sam studied his brother for a moment, wondering what had spurred this sudden change from the last two months. It seemed they were either on a hunt, or heading for one without much of a break in between. Not that he was going to complain about taking a break.  
  
Dean resigned himself to sorting out the dirty clothes from the rest of their stuff, shoving clothes into one bag and their personal items into another. He withdrew his hand and studied what he held, his stomach fluttering with memory.  
  
Standing under the hot spray, Sam mulled over the past few weeks. Dean had seemed more closed off than usual, which meant he avoided discussing anything that didn't pertain to the current hunt, or to the hunt coming up. Whenever he tried to get him to open up, Dean would just shrug and change the subject, which irritated him.  
  
Lately, Dean always worked it so he'd be the one in the direct line of fire, while Sam took the role of backup. He had begun to wonder if Dean really trusted him. Tonight had started out just like the ones before, by Dean sending him out of harms way. But then Dean goes and pulls a stunt by placing his life in his hands. He didn't think he'd ever figure Dean out.  
  
He doubted if after all these years, Dean would completely let up on his big brother attitude, but he could at least try and reach some sort of compromise. Sam towel dried his hair and wrapped the damp towel around his hips before stepping out of the bathroom. He paused. The room was dark, except for the light coming from the bathroom behind him. "Dean?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is everything all right?" Sam asked, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He saw Dean in bed, leaning against the headboard with his hands behind his head.  
  
"Yeah. Why?" asked Dean.  
  
"Because it's not that late and you're already in bed," answered Sam, walking toward him. "Usually you have the t.v. on, or you're cleaning your guns."  
  
"There's only a few crappy channels," said Dean. "And I'll take care of the guns in the morning."  
  
"Oh." Sam glanced at the door, double checking that it was locked before moving toward Dean. He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a good look at his brother.  
  
"What?" asked Dean, staring back at him.  
  
Sam tilted his head slightly and squinted at him. "You're up to something."  
  
"Well," grinned Dean "Part of me is definitely up."  
  
Sam snorted and stood, removing the towel from around his waist and tossing it on the back of a chair.  
  
Dean maneuvered to give Sam room as he slipped under the sheets beside him. In a single move, he had tugged Sam flat on the bed and rolled to cover him with his body. He lowered his head and kissed Sam, long, slow and deep. They really hadn't had the time for much more than the quick hand or blow jobs. They were either on the move, or too tired to have the energy to enjoy themselves.  
  
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, shifting his legs to settle him between them. It was still new to him to have Dean take the initiative in their relationship, and his body shivered with excitement. He arched his head back, exposing his neck as Dean nipped and kissed his way down his chest.  
  
Taking his time, Dean burned a path from chest to stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into the small well of Sam's bellybutton. He grinned as the muscles beneath his tongue quivered in time with each flick of his tongue. His chin bumped the tip of Sam's cock and he slid further down to take it in his mouth.  
  
Bending his legs slightly, Sam cradled Dean between them. His breath quickened as his arousal flared from the sensation of Dean's mouth. His hips twitched and jerked upward, pushing himself into the wet heat. The beginnings of the familiar tingle had just started when Dean released him and moved back up his body. He focused on Dean's lips, that were now red and slightly swollen.  
  
Dean looked down at him, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  
  
"What?" asked Sam, pulling his gaze from Dean's lips to his eyes. He blinked at the intensity of Dean's gaze.  
  
Shifting his attention to the spot just below Sam's adam apple, Dean sucked in his lower lip a moment before speaking. "We're not hitting the road tomorrow and, uh, well I thought maybe we could, um," he stammered, sliding his hand beneath the pillow and pulling out the tube of lubricant and a condom.  
  
Sam's heart gave a little skip. "I didn't think you wanted to continue in that direction. You hadn't mentioned it at all since that night."  
  
"Despite how you tried to hide it, I did notice you weren't all that comfortable riding in the car," said Dean, clearing his throat. "I didn't think it was a good idea for us to do this, then find ourselves in a fight. And if we started talking about it, I wasn't sure we wouldn't want to do it again right then and there."  
  
"And now you want to," stated Sam, trying not to grin too widely at the blush on Dean's cheeks.  
  
"Only if you do," said Dean, hoping Sam didn't notice the pounding of his heart.  
  
Smiling, Sam slipped a hand behind Dean's neck and pulled him down into a kiss.  
  
Slipping his arms under Sam, Dean hugged him tight while lightly rocking their bodies together. A spark of adrenaline rushed through him, and his arms tightened even more around Sam.  
  
Sam squirmed in Dean's embrace, his own excitement building. He placed a hand on Dean's chest, gently urging him to lift up a little. "It'll be easier this time . . . I think. At least I know what to expect."  
  
"Uh, Sam . . . ," said Dean, his expression one of embarrassment. "I had thought, uh, that maybe this time you'd, um . . . well. . . ."  
  
Understanding dawned and Sam's eyes widened. "Really?"  
  
"It would only be fair," answered Dean, ducking his head slightly.  
  
"There's no fair and unfair in this," said Sam. "It's whatever we're both comfortable with."  
  
"I know that. I'd like to give it a try, okay?" said Dean, a bit more forcefully than necessary.  
  
Sam grinned. "Okay."  
  
Nodding once, Dean rolled off of him and settled on his stomach. He clenched a pillow close and buried his face into it.  
  
Sam sat up, flabbergasted. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Dean lifted his head. "What does it look like?"  
  
"I'm not sure I want to try and describe it, but it certainly isn't how I imagined this would go" answered Sam, beginning to wonder if maybe Dean really was only doing this to even the invisible score board he kept in his head. That maybe Dean felt he couldn't expect him to submit to being penetrated, if he wasn't willing to reciprocate in kind. "Maybe you're not ready for this right now. That doesn't mean we can't, we just stick to how we did it before."  
  
"No," sighed Dean, shifting onto his side. "I want to. I'm just a bit tense."  
  
"It's normal to be nervous," said Sam.  
  
"I'm not nervous," said Dean, his voice slightly rough.  
  
"Good," said Sam, scooting closer and gently kissing him. Leaning forward, he forced Dean to lie back. He hovered over him, searching for any clue that he had changed his mind. "Trust me."  
  
"Always have," said Dean, some of his tension easing as he ran his hand down Sam's side and lower stomach.  
  
Sam blinked, the ring of truth in Dean's words hitting home. A warmth filled him that had nothing to do with Dean's hand fondling him. "If you keep doing that, it's going to be over before we start."  
  
With a wicked smirk, Dean added a little twist to his wrist and rubbed his thumb over the leaking head of Sam's cock. He was rewarded with Sam's hips bucking while he jerked forward, hitting his head on his chest. "Let me know if you're not up to it, Sammy."  
  
"Fuck you," gasped Sam, gripping Dean's wrist to still his hand. Any doubt he had harbored about pursuing this evaporated.  
  
"I do believe that's the intention," grinned Dean, widening his legs in invitation.  
  
Sam squinted. It never failed to amaze him how Dean approached things, especially when he was out of his element. Half of Dean's brash bravado stemmed from hiding any insecurities he felt. The other half was pure Dean. "We're not rushing this." Taking his time, Sam ran his hand down Dean's stomach and trailing his fingers over sensitive spots that practically melted Dean.  
  
"Whatever you say," sighed Dean, losing himself in Sam's talented hands.  
  
"Remember that," grinned Sam, blanketing Dean with his body.  
  
"What?" asked Dean, lifting his head slightly.  
  
"Just relax and enjoy it," said Sam, silencing Dean with a kiss. He worked his way down, taking Dean into his mouth and remembering the first time he had done this, he deliberately wrapped an arm around Dean's thigh. Snapping open the small tube, he carefully coated his fingers with the lubricant.  
  
Dean's eyes flew open at the cool sensation of Sam's finger sliding into him. This time he had been expecting it and wasn't half way off the bed.  
  
Sam could feel Dean's thigh tense as he slowly added a second finger. He paused, giving Dean a chance to get used to the intrusion and slid his mouth off of Dean's cock. "Okay?"  
  
After a moment, Dean answered. "Yeah."  
  
Taking that as permission to continue, Sam slowly and gently started to scissor his fingers, hunting for the sweet spot.  
  
Gradually, the uncomfortable ache eased as Sam added more lube as he continued to stretch him. Suddenly, his entire body jerked as Sam's long fingers found what they had been searching for.  
  
"Like that?" grinned Sam, as he once again rubbed over the little nub. His only answer was a garbled grunt. Removing his fingers he picked up the condom packet and tore it open.  
  
Hiding the little surge of unease that fluttered around his heart, Dean shifted onto his stomach.  
  
Nudging Dean's legs apart, Sam settled between them, coating himself with the slippery gel. He leaned forward and gripped Dean's shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze before massaging the tension in his back. "You can always change your mind, you know."  
  
"I'm fine," said Dean, lifting up to hands and knees.  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Sam, kneeling behind him.  
  
Dean braced himself and nodded.  
  
"Man, you have got to breathe," said Sam, as he rubbed small circles on Dean's lower back.  
  
Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, Dean dropped his head forward.  
  
"You've got to relax, or this isn't going to happen," said Sam.  
  
Dean looked over his shoulder, and their eyes locked.  
  
For that one moment, they understood each other. They didn't just trust each other with their lives, they trusted each other in all ways possible.  
  
The tension that had gripped Dean melted. He flashed a grin at Sam, and turned away, rolling his shoulders. "Are you gonna just admire me, or are you going to fuck me?"  
  
An exasperated chuckle escaped Sam and he scooted closer, lining himself up. Pushing slowly forward, he held onto Dean's hips, waiting for the resistance to his intrusion.  
  
A flare of pain struck Dean and he gasped, remembering what Sam had said about the guardian ring.  
  
"Dean?" Inner muscles had clamped down on him, and Sam froze.  
  
"Take your own advice," ground out Dean. "And don't stop."  
  
Biting back his own uncertainty, Sam steadily pushed forward until he was past the tight resistance. He paused, giving Dean a chance to recover. "Okay?"  
  
"Yeah, considering I have a cock the size of Texas up my ass," choked out Dean.  
  
Sam clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the snicker that suddenly wanted to burst out. He took a deep breath when he was certain he could speak without his voice betraying him. "Let me know when you're ready."  
  
"Give it a try," said Dean.  
  
Withdrawing slowly, Sam placed a kiss between Dean's shoulders. He took his time, sliding in and out until Dean accepted him without resistance.  
  
The slow glide of Sam's cock sent shivers through him and Dean started to push back as Sam pushed forward. The slight change in the angle of Sam's entry brushed the sweet spot. "Shit!"  
  
Sam tightened his hold on Dean's hips as his brother jerked forward and then back. His control almost slipping as velvet muscles pulsated around his cock. It took a couple more attempts before he found the right angle again, then concentrated on maintaining it. He was rewarded with a long, low moan from Dean.  
  
As the sensation filled him to his core, Dean urged Sam to go faster and harder, gasping for air as his entire body shuddered with each thrust.  
  
The steady twitching of Dean's passage had Sam on the edge of coming. He fisted Dean's cock, determined Dean would come before him.  
  
Caught between the dual sensations, Dean's arms gave out as he came, and he buried his face in the pillow to try and smother the throat searing groans of pleasure.  
  
Sam grasped Dean's hips hard enough to leave bruises as Dean spasmed around his throbbing cock. Unable to restrain himself, Sam slammed into him, his mouth open in a silent scream as he came.  
  
Together they collapsed flat on the bed, their bodies trembling from the after shocks of their orgasms.  
  
Dean grunted when Sam softened and slipped out, his nerve endings extremely sensitive to his withdrawal.  
  
Gathering what little strength he had left, Sam rolled off and discarded the condom, not caring if he hit the small trash can or not. "You okay?" He turned his head, but Dean was facing the other way. "Dean?" He had started to sit up to see if he had inadvertently done something seriously wrong when he lost control, when Dean's voice floated to him.  
  
"This is damn impossible," muttered Dean, turning his head to face Sam.  
  
"What?" Sam's eyebrows knitted together, concerned that Dean was regretting what they had just done.  
  
"I can't decide which way is better," sighed Dean, slowly opening his eyes. "Pitching or receiving."  
  
Sam grinned, relieved. "Know what you mean."  
  
"Gotta move," grunted Dean. "I'm lying in the wet spot."  
  
Together they stumbled to the other bed, Dean curling onto his side and Sam spooning behind him.  
  
*  
  
Dean woke to find Sam gone along with the duffel bags of dirty clothes. Noting it was almost noon, he moved to get out of bed and froze. He had a dull ache that suddenly flared at the abrupt movement. Easing himself to his feet, he made his way to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower.  
  
Afterwards, he dressed and found his cell phone. Checking for messages, he saw a text message with a set of coordinates.  
  
*  
  
Sam entered the motel room, setting the take out he had picked up on the table.  
  
"Dad wants us to go to Fitchberg, Wisconsin," greeted Dean, closing the laptop and sliding it across the bed.  
  
"Felchburg?" asked Sam, hiding the grin as he picked up the laptop and placed it next to the food.  
  
"Fitchberg," corrected Dean.  
  
"Any hint as to why?" asked Sam, handing Dean his orange chicken with noodles.  
  
"Nope," said Dean, propping himself on his side to eat.  
  
"When do we leave?" Sam settled into a chair and started to mix together his mongolian beef and steamed rice.  
  
"Not before tomorrow," answered Dean, avoiding eye contact with Sam as his little brother snickered.


End file.
